


The Taste of Dirt and Freckles

by ashleeforreal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Freckles, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, OiHina - Freeform, Oikawa and Hinata are really the only ones in this, Self-Indulgent, This is pure fluff, and Hinata's mom is just brief, hanahaki, hanahaki byou, if this also gets put on ao3feed-hqrarepairs I'll actually cry, kags is only mentioned, my fics are slowly getting more and more pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleeforreal/pseuds/ashleeforreal
Summary: A warm feeling spread throughout his chest, quickly followed by an itch in his throat. Hinata already knew what was happening, he’d honestly expected it, and as he bent over and dry heaved into his hand for a few seconds, he was not at all surprised to see the torn petals of a white carnation littering his palm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello I'm still so happy that my rare pair fics are getting rec'd on ao3feed-hqrarepairs on tumblr, and they are an amazing resource. Please check them out if you haven't already.
> 
> I'll put flower meanings at the end so it'll make more sense, but I don't want to spoil anything so they have to come later ><
> 
> In other news my writing tumblr is ashleeforreal in case you wanted that information

After the spring tournament, after Seijou had lost, it was strange that Hinata found himself cornered by the opposing team's setter. Oikawa was still upset about losing, that much was obvious, but as he leaned down into Hinata’s personal space, there seemed to be something else on his mind. Hinata was having a hard time focusing on anything besides how much more attractive Oikawa was up close, like the way his eyelashes were actually a very dark brown instead of black, and his lips were not at all chapped. Probably from all the water he'd drank whenever there was a break in the game, almost four bottles - not that Hinata had been counting. Or staring from across the court.

 

There was a moment where Hinata froze completely, almost shaking with how still he was trying to keep, and Oikawa did nothing but stare at the shorter boy with calculating intensity. The wait for the elder one to speak seemed to drone on for hours to Hinata, but in truth it was probably only a minute or so. Maybe it only felt that way because  _ wow look at that. There's a tiny freckle right above his eyebrow. Why is he close enough for me to see that. _

 

Finally, the silence was broken as Oikawa dug around in his gym bag, before his hand held out a phone in front of the ginger. Hinata’s hands were still raised in front of his chest in surrender, and his fingers twitched like he was going to take it, but something made him pause and cast a wary glance at Oikawa's face. The setter smirked, looking down his nose at Hinata. 

 

“Don't be so tense, Chibi-chan. I just want your number so I can help you practice sometime, like a good senpai.”

 

Hinata took the phone hesitantly, and as he began putting in his number, he realized two things. One: Oikawa was not his senpai, and two: this meant he'd have someone to toss to him when Tobio was busy. Of course, Hinata had no filter, so the first realization poured from his mouth before he could reel it back in.

 

Oikawa just waved it off, taking the phone back when Hinata proffered it. “Two sides of the same coin, Hina-chan. I'm still older even if I'm at another school. Technically I'm still your senpai,” he reasoned nonchalantly, only briefly flicking through his phone to be sure everything was as it should be. Hinata tried to pry his eyes away from Oikawa's hands, but upon finding his eyes would only substitute them for his face, he returned his gaze to the fingers moving deftly over the phone screen.

 

“Why do you want to practice with me? We're rivals,” Hinata replied. One side of his brain was beating the other for speaking with an aluminum bat.  _ Are you trying to make him change his mind? You're getting to spike  _ and _ spend time with an attractive person. Stop trying to ruin this. _

 

Oikawa's fingers paused where they had been tapping, hovering over the screen as his eyes moved back to connect with Hinata’s. He no longer looked calculating. His eyes were thoughtful as he got closer to Hinata’s face once again, shining with indecision on how direct he should be. When his eyes were level with the ginger’s, and they were about a half centimeter from sharing breathing space, he seemed to find his answer in the hitch of Hinata’s breath. 

 

“There's something about you, Hina-chan.” He paused, searching for the right words to express it.  Oikawa took into consideration that he was speaking to someone who was like Tobio, and that most of his thoughts were centered on volleyball and rarely anything else. “There's something about you...that makes me  _ want _ to set to  _ you _ . And I’m selfish. When I want something, I keep it.”

 

Oikawa pulled back, hoping the full meaning was heard. At the moment, Hinata’s face was hard to read, so he let it go. He went back to tapping at his phone, and sent a text to Iwaizumi that he would be at the bus in a moment. The second he heard Hinata’s phone chime in his bag, he turned and began walking away, waving at Hinata over his shoulder. The weight of his loss still weighed them down slightly, a little lower than Hinata had ever seen them.

 

“I'll text you when I'm free, Chibi-chan. Look forward to it.” Oikawa called. Then he was taking a right down the hallway that lead to the gym doors, and Hinata was scrambling to pull his phone from its pocket in his gym bag to confirm that yes, he'd actually just got Oikawa Tooru’s phone number without having to ask (or beg) anyone else.

 

~*~

 

They’d been having their little practice sessions for a few months when it happened. The first few times they met up, Hinata had been awkward and wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask Oikawa if he maybe, possibly, wanted to go grab something to eat after they practiced. As it happened, Oikawa took the lead in that respect. It was much more anticlimactic than Hinata had been expecting, just the setter dragging him to a nearby fast food place and buying him a burger after a particularly good day of training together.

 

That was the first time they’d taken time to talk about more than just volleyball. It began with an offhanded comment from Hinata, as the sun went down outside the windows, that he hoped the overcast clouds would clear up so he could see the stars on his way home. Oikawa had picked it up from there, asking if he had any particular constellations he enjoyed seeing. Hinata had embarrassingly had to admit that he only really knew how to spot the big dipper, much to Oikawa’s slight disappointment. To make up for his lack of knowledge, Oikawa said he’d point some out to Hinata the next time he got the chance, and then went on a ramble about how astrology connected everything.

 

At first Hinata had struggled to keep up with the conversation, but by the time they were throwing out their trash and exiting the restaurant, his ears were more attuned to the sound of Oikawa’s voice and the flow of his speech. This, somehow, seemed like a very important moment to Hinata: the way Oikawa would wave his hand vaguely when referring to the stranger stories of Greek mythology, the way he would scratch the back of his head slightly when he was getting his facts mixed up or had trouble remembering a specific detail, the way his lips would move faster and his voice would go slightly higher pitched as he tried to force out too many thoughts at once that excited him. The breeze had brushed the tips of Oikawa’s hair, making it blow back past his ears and gave Hinata the full view of his high cheekbones dusted with pink. It was probably the cold. He got a good look at the way Oikawa’s eyes glimmered as he enthused about all the worlds they couldn’t see, and Shouyou thought that one of those was hidden right behind the setter’s irises, undiscovered.

 

Two sessions later, and Oikawa offered to walk Hinata home when their practice went longer than expected and the sun was already setting. The intention behind it was obvious, but Hinata didn’t question it and led Oikawa in the direction of the mountain. Halfway along Oikawa pointed up at the stars, and excitedly helped Hinata find Cassiopeia and Cancer by holding the middle blocker’s wrist and guiding his fingers in the right direction. Hinata had turned his head to the side, not realizing how close their faces were as he tried to ask Oikawa how to spell Cassiopeia. The brunette had been leaning over his shoulder so he could point it out from Hinata’s height, and-

 

Well. Shouyou knew that there was also a freckle on the same side of Oikawa’s face. It was right below his left cheekbone, closer to his ear than the swell of his cheek.

 

By the time they made it to Hinata’s door, they’d walked too slowly and dawdled on the road enough that it was far too late for either of them to be out. For the first time that Hinata could remember, Oikawa gave him a genuine smile as he bid him goodnight, both rows of teeth glinting almost dangerously under the streetlight.

 

As Hinata headed up the steps, however, Oikawa called out one more thing into the near silent night that was also a first for them. In that moment, his voice almost seemed like it belonged with the chirp of the cicadas and the sound of a car passing a few streets over, like this was the place it was destined to be heard at. “That was really fun, Hina-chan! You should come stargazing with me next time!”

 

Then Oikawa was gone, and Hinata was staring dumbfounded after him. A warm feeling spread throughout his chest, quickly followed by an itch in his throat. Hinata already knew what was happening, he’d honestly expected it, and as he bent over and dry heaved into his hand for a few seconds, he was not at all surprised to see the torn petals of a white carnation littering his palm.

 

_ Well, _ Hinata thought, rubbing his hands together to rid them of the smaller pieces,  _ it’s not like I could really expect anything else. _

 

Hanahaki, while a new disease, was spread very strangely. It began with random cases popping up all over the world, and went around viciously. It was considered a miracle if you didn’t see some young person with leaves and rose petals stuck to the back of their teeth for a while. However, scientists had developed a surgery to remove the plant growth from your lungs. The only downside was that the psychological effects of having the symbol of your love removed also took away the affection you had for the person causing it.

 

There had also been a vaccination that could help prevent you from getting the disease, but only a fraction of the population actually got it. It was no everyday occurrence to fall for someone and start hacking up daisies.

 

Other than completely random cases, it was far more likely that you would contract the disease if you had been in close contact with someone who had it or had had it before. Hinata reminisced on the days when Kenma had been spitting out frangipani into his lap every time Akaashi passed them at a training camp. Hinata didn’t regret reaching over to scoop the little blossoms out of his friend’s lap, thus opening his body to the illness, even now. The grateful look Kenma had gave him when Hinata shoved the flowers into his hoodie pocket to hide them without question was something he’d never forget.

 

Thankfully, Kenma had told Akaashi. Even though it took a few weeks for his lungs to clear up, it was obvious that the development had made both of the boys happy to see them go. Kenma had admitted to Shouyou once, at around two in the morning in a Skype call, that he was actually thankful for the disease, or he’d have never confronted his feelings.

 

Hinata straightened up and headed inside, calling out to his mother that he was home. As he headed up the stairs to his room, she asked how Oikawa had been. Hinata accidentally got a few torn petals on the steps as he answered that Oikawa was great, as always.

 

~*~

 

Hinata’s mother discovered the condition faster than he would have liked. It also didn’t take long for her to deduce the cause. As sweet as she thought it was, it was also her son’s life at stake, and she had become painstakingly obvious in her attempts to speed up their relationship. (Hinata didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t think it was going anywhere anytime soon.)

 

Hence, Oikawa now sat at his dinner table, looking around the dining room curiously while Hinata-san cooked in the next room. Shouyou was perched in the seat beside him, making idle conversation about volleyball and school. It had been pleasant, until Oikawa brought up a subject that Hinata hadn’t realized he was avoiding until it came up.

 

“I’ll be going to school in Tokyo, soon,” he commented nonchalantly. His eyes were still trained on a picture of Shouyou and Natsu from two years ago, when she was just learning to use her words in a way that translated to nothing other than pure, unadulterated sass. Even in the picture, her hip was cocked out and a hand planted firmly on it, while she had the other small arm wrapped around her brother’s. Shouyou was smiling a wide grin, flashing a peace sign at the camera with his free hand.

 

“Oh,” Hinata mumbled, eyes going a little wide, “I hadn’t thought about that. I guess a lot of people will be leaving soon, huh?” A lot of people indeed. The only one he really wished would stay was right beside him, and while the presence was solid in that moment, he could already see the ill future ahead of him. Oikawa moving to Tokyo and no longer practicing with him. Oikawa making new friends and letting them occupy his time. Oikawa spacing out and forgetting to text Hinata back while he waved his hands around and explained the constellations and why aliens were real to some girl. Oikawa giving the girl a soft smile and touching her hand. Oikawa kissing the girl, forgetting all about the boy a few miles from his hometown, choking on his useless love --

 

Hinata stood abruptly, causing Oikawa to jump, before Shouyou turned and sprinted for the bathroom and ignoring Oikawa’s question of whether or not he was okay. As soon as he made it to the washroom and closed the door, he turned to the trashcan and immediately felt it curling out of his mouth. This was the first time it had been so much, a garland of yellow hyacinths and marigolds falling out in a long vine that took forever to come to a stop. By the end, his eyes were watering and his head was pounding to the rhythm of his mother’s fist on the door, asking if he could breathe.

 

Shouyou sucked in a gasping breath, dropping the garbage can that was filled to overflowing with thick green vines decorated in golden blooms to the floor. It made a sickening crash as the metal collided with the tile, causing his breath to stutter once more and push out some individual petals on his exhale. Shouyou knew that he’d have to come out soon or Oikawa would  _ really _ figure out what was going on, and swiped a sleeve across his chin and eyes quickly to rid him of tears and yellow petals as he jerked the door open to his concerned mother’s gaze.

 

Her eyes slid to the can tipped over on the floor behind him as he pushed past her, a hand fluttering to her lips. “Oh, Shouyou,” she gasped, immediately going in the bathroom and closing the door behind herself as she stooped to scoop them all back in the container.

 

Shouyou continued back to the dining room, acting as if nothing had happened when Oikawa gave him a worried and curious look. “Just a coughing fit, nothing to worry about.”

 

Oikawa didn’t give an outward reaction, knowing it would ruin Hinata’s mood if he mentioned it, but the tattered remains of a hyacinth bloom clung to the corner of his mouth. Tooru convinced himself it was a thread off of the yellow hand towels adorning the guest bathroom, and picked up a different conversation.

 

~*~

 

The next week brought more struggles for Hinata Shouyou. Oikawa had accepted his answer that it was just a slight cough, but there was something very off about the way he was acting.

 

It began with their practices. Hinata had learned how to keep the petals at bay for a few minutes when he felt them coming on, which gave him enough time to try and come up with an excuse to go and vomit out green anemones and apple blossoms behind the edge of the building next to the court in the public park they practiced at. There was no need for Oikawa to know about this. Hinata was almost positive that his feelings were not reciprocated. He also knew that he should get the operation before it got any worse. His mom was already calling around to local doctors to try and find the best one, in case her son let it progress to the point where it threatened his life.

 

Hinata wasn’t sure how far he was going to let it progress himself. Part of him thought he should go ahead and give it up, get the surgery, and move on, but another part of him - the larger part, was far too caught up in the way Oikawa smiled at him when he asked about the alien movie he watched the day before, too gone for the barely-there touch of their arms as Oikawa walked him home, as he had began insisting Hinata let him. Tooru was pushing at Hinata’s boundaries every chance he got, slinging an arm over his shoulders or flicking him on the forehead when they joked around. All the physical contact made it hard for Hinata to manage the swell of blooms in his diaphragm, but he somehow managed.

 

Hinata let Oikawa do a lot of things he shouldn’t. Shouyou started letting Oikawa call him “Sho-chan.” Let Oikawa stand behind him and put his arms and legs around his to adjust the position for receiving the ball, basically reaching down Shouyou’s throat and pulling the buds of roses out himself, stinging his esophagus with their stems lined with pin prick thorns. Let Oikawa talk him into going stargazing together next week when he knew he’d be constantly feeling the insistent press of white carnations and cedar leaves at the back of his teeth, begging to pour out of his mouth and ruin what little he had built up with Oikawa.

 

They were going to go on Friday night, so if they ended up staying out too late they could go back to Oikawa’s house ( _ please god, _ Hinata begged,  _ let me remember to set an alarm for when to head home _ ). On the Sunday before, as they were trekking up the last piece of road before Hinata’s house, he almost ruined everything.

 

Oikawa had a can of green tea in his hand, and when he went to take a sip, he’d accidentally missed his mouth (distracted by telling Hinata all about how even though he and Iwaizumi were going to different universities, he’d still find a way to  bother  hang out with him). Tea had spilled down Oikawa’s chin, and splattered onto one of his favorite shirts. Oikawa had made such a sudden and strange noise - a panicked cry of “Hiiiihh!” that rose quickly in pitch - that Hinata had doubled over laughing, almost dropping his phone and falling over.

 

“Tooru-san, what kind of noise was that?!” Hinata wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes as he struggled to regain his breath. His mind was still fresh with the sound of Oikawa’s voice and the way his eyes had almost bugged out of his head, and he fell into another fit of laughter.

 

Oikawa had been chuckling along, but suddenly calmed down to latch onto the new title. “Tooru-san? Who gave you permission to call me that, you little punk? Respect your elders!” he teased, using his free hand to ruffle up Hinata’s hair.

 

Hinata swatted him away, straightening back up. If Oikawa’s hand had remained there very much longer, he wouldn’t be able to keep the flowers at bay. Even now, just from the brief touch, Hinata could feel the pressure of some new flower (firmer petals, seeming to be in the middle of blooming, expanding across the width of his windpipe and holding him in a constant state of being just a little too out of breath) trying to escape his lungs. The sound of Oikawa’s teasing tone and his amused laughter rattled his frame and intensified the press against his lungs.

 

“I’m sorry, Oikawa, I didn’t realize I called you that,” Hinata apologized, trying and failing to swallow down whatever this new, thicker flower was. The petals were forcefully pushing outwards, blooming out, out, out and refusing Hinata’s inhales of desperation.

 

“Don’t worry about it Sho-chan,” Oikawa chirped, flipping his hand absently as he looked back down at what was soon to be a giant stain on his shirt, “we’re close enough now that you can call me whatever you want. Tooru is fine.”

 

Hinata’s breath would have hitched, but when he went to take a shocked inhale, it sucked the unknown menace into his throat so that there was only one way to dislodge it. His eyes watered as his feet sped up slightly, knowing he wouldn’t make it but hoping against all odds that he could just hold it in until he got home.

 

Oikawa noticed the change in pace, and while he did catch up and match it, he also questioned it. “Oi, Sho-chan, don’t walk so fast. I want to keep talking to you,” Oikawa admitted earnestly, putting a hand on the shorter boy’s shoulder.

 

That was the last straw, and even though Hinata felt the tears pushing at his eyelids and the wild shake of his head and shoulders as he attempted to get away from the hands he wanted on him the most, the flower wasn’t waiting for his approval. Hinata could feel what seemed like a whole bush of the thick petals filling his lungs, all blooming at the same time, and  then they were coming up, up, out-

 

Shouyou collapsed to the sidewalk, turning his face away from Tooru’s worried and scared eyes as he released the roses, and tried not to cry too much when they  _ just kept coming, why wouldn’t they stop? _

 

A broken sob wrenched itself out of his chest as he caught a small break in the flood of flower petals, his eyes burning when he opened his eyes to see the bane of his existence. There they were, in all different shades, seeming to expand even more outside of his body and out in the open air: lavender, peach, baby pink, violet, orange, and blinding yellow ranunculus fell in a pile by his knees.

 

“Shouyou-” Oikawa began, but immediately stopped when Hinata suddenly began coughing up even more of the giant blossoms at the call of his voice. They didn’t stop for a while, and the growing mountain on the ground making Oikawa’s head spin. How had he even kept all that in?

 

This question brought on another that made him angry:  _ Why had Hinata bothered holding them in? _

 

He waited patiently for the stream of flower petals and sobs to subside, before kneeling down and pulling the shorter boy’s chin around so they were eye-to-eye.  _ I shouldn’t do this now, _ he thought, looking at the tear tracks and trembling lower lip with a baby pink rose petal torn in half on the edge,  _ I should wait until he’s completely calmed down. _

 

But then the rage was building up, and the childish side of Oikawa wasn’t listening to the rational side, and he was yelling, and Hinata was crying more than ever. “Why did you try to hide this?! How long have you had this - that’s so dangerous, Hinata!” It wasn’t showing, Hinata didn’t see it, but Oikawa was just so _ worried _ . “Why would you practice if you can’t breathe?! Why would you even leave the house? Why haven’t you-”

 

Oikawa paused, breathing heavy, and Hinata turned his head to the side as a flush crawled up his neck. They both knew what Oikawa’s last question was going to be. Hinata had been avoiding it for weeks now.

 

“Why didn’t you get the operation?” Tooru finally choked out, hand dropping to the ground next to his bad knee to help hold himself up. “Is this person really worth dying over?”

 

Hinata stared determinedly at the small hill of roses that had gathered at his feet. Even when they weren’t in his throat, it felt like out in the open they still had the ability to take away his speech. How was he supposed to respond to that? How did he tell Oikawa that he’d do anything for him? How did he say that if Oikawa told him to dive off a cliff for only a smile in return, he’d be running for the rocks before he finished asking?

 

“I-” Shouyou began, coughed up a few petals and spit them on the curb, then continued, “I think he’s worth the world. I know he doesn’t love me back, I just...don’t want to lose my feelings for him. I love him too much, and even if it hurts, I’d rather die than give him up.”

 

There was silence. A car drove by, headlights flashing across the duo in the twilight, the light just catching the edges of a few roses and highlighting the contrasting colors, just barely making the streaks running down Hinata’s face glow, just touching the outside of Oikawa’s scowl and the freckle above his eyebrow before it was dim again.

 

Oikawa stood up, and offered a hand down to Hinata. “You need to get home and try to get it all out. It’s getting late.” His voice was quiet and lacking in his usual personality, but Hinata took his hand nonetheless. When Oikawa had steadied him, his hands were off, and Hinata was startled by how abrupt all of the setter’s movements were.

 

As they passed the stack of roses on the ground, for a reason Shouyou couldn’t decipher, Oikawa pulled his foot back and kicked them. Buds and petals went flying, sailing off the sidewalk and drifting back down in the street, waiting to be crushed. Hinata watched them fall blankly, eyes glued to them as a car rounded the corner and headed towards them.

 

Oikawa began walking in the direction of Hinata’s house. “Let’s go.”

 

Hinata twisted his hands together, walking backwards to keep an eye on the roses as the car approached. A few seconds later, the wheels rolled over them, and even if there was no sound, Hinata heard a sickening  _ crack _ across the back of his skull, felt the ache it left behind shiver down his body and settle in his chest.

 

He turned around, and for once, he let Oikawa walk in front of him as he stared at his shoes. He wanted to ask why, but kept quiet when he tasted dirt in his mouth.

 

~*~

 

They hadn’t really spoken much since that night. Oikawa stopped walking him home and seemed more reserved at their practices. The only real conversation they’d had was when Hinata had asked, albeit hesitantly, if Oikawa still wanted him to come stargazing Friday at the end of practice on Wednesday. They weren’t meeting up Thursday.

 

Oikawa had stared at the water bottle in his hand contemplatively for a few moments before nodding. “Yeah. I’ve got some constellations to show you that are really hard to see anywhere but that hill.”

 

Hinata had ducked his head and thanked him, then gathered his things and left quickly. All the way home, Hinata had to stop every few seconds to spit out yellow carnations and pick the cypress leaves from between his teeth. Each day it got harder to breathe. He wondered how far he’d go before the flowers finally filled up his lungs and left him dead, or if his mother would force him to the hospital to have them removed, or if he’d ever see Oikawa smile at him again.

 

Hinata wondered about the smile the most.

 

Thursday was hell. Hinata kept wondering if he’d screwed everything up with Oikawa. He wondered if he’d get to hear him laugh again even if he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Tooru should be getting ready to go to university, he should be thinking about his upcoming classes. He shouldn’t be worrying and mad at Hinata.

 

There was a constant flow of snowdrops from Hinata’s mouth that day. They came out on thick stems, creeping up his throat and being too invasive for him to get much more to his stomach than a few glasses of water. It was getting worse, Hinata knew he’d have to make a decision soon. 

 

Of course, his mother didn’t seem to care about his decision.

 

“Shouyou, I called and scheduled an appointment for Tuesday. If you haven’t resolved it, I will.” She leaned over the dining table and held him by the cheeks, using her thumb to brush part of the broken leaves and spit from the edge of his mouth. “I know you love him...but you’re my son. I can’t let you go.”

 

She gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, patting him on the back as he bent over and puked more little white blooms and long green leaves into the garbage can next to him. He couldn’t even manage a response, the free time between the emerging flowers spent sucking in what little air he was allowed before the next attack of plant life. But his mother seemed to get the message as he caught her wrist and pressed his thumb to her pulse point, a wet cough making his body shake in his weakened state.

 

She smiled softly, and squeezed his wrist back before retreating to the kitchen to wash dishes. Hinata felt the slide of silky petals getting hooked at the bottom of his esophagus, tasted the leaves and felt the edges cut the inside of his cheek as he worked them out of his body with a heaving chest and labored wheezes of air struggle to give him oxygen.

 

He wasn’t sure he could get the operation, even if he had to run from home to keep it away. He didn’t want to lose this feeling. The thought of giving up Oikawa - never feeling the flutter in his stomach when he got a genuine smile, the buzzing in the back of his head when Oikawa laughed, the way he felt all his nerves go haywire when Oikawa got excited when he was talking about something - he needed it now.

 

What would it be like to have a blank space where Oikawa should be? Over the last few months, he’d fallen so hard. Would he be able to fall in love again? Would the operation only take his feelings? Would he still have all of the memories from the time they spent together? Would it just be like watching a black and white movie with nothing but a numb heart to show for it at the end?

 

Hinata had made his decision. He had the stargazing, he had one evening promised to him by Oikawa. He would take this chance. If it didn’t work out (it wouldn’t it wouldn’t it wouldn’t he knew but he could hope against hope he could hold onto that small sliver of a chance he could try he couldn’t give up until he couldn’t breathe, breathe,  _ breathe _ ) then so be the consequences.

 

Hinata had never given up on anything before. He wasn’t going to start now.

 

~*~

 

It was simple. A large, thick quilt laid out on the side of a semi-steep hill. It had been patched in multiple spots, all different fabrics. There were grass stains and the touch of dirt closer to one end than the others. It became clear why when Oikawa put his feet at that end and started taking off his shoes, almost ripping the laces free on his sneakers.

 

Hinata coughed up one of the original white carnations. It was the softest thing he’d spit out in days.

 

Oikawa growled as he pushed his shoes off almost aggressively. The streetlamps flickered on on the street almost a quarter mile behind them. The hill suddenly felt darker.

 

Hinata copied his motions in removing his shoes, albeit more relaxed, and sat a comfortable distance from the other boy. It was becoming night quickly. He prided himself on only coughing up a few gardenias as he toed off his own sneakers.

 

Oikawa was dead silent, and didn’t offer any conversation. He seemed to be trying to avoid Hinata’s eyes, almost pretending he wasn’t even there.

 

Shouyou probably deserved that.

 

As it became dark enough to see the stars beginning to shine, Hinata wondered when the actual educational part of this outing would begin. He remembered how Tooru had guided his wrist that first night, helped him point in the right direction to see the patterns and find his way through the stars. He remembered the way Tooru had talked about all kinds of worlds out there they might not know exist, maybe never would. Hinata felt stupid, but he remembered thinking he wanted to discover those alien galaxies with Oikawa.

 

He spotted the first constellation Oikawa had ever shown him, and wracked his brain for the name as he turned to the side and tried to cough up more gardenias and carnations as quietly as possible.

 

_ Ah, _ Hinata thought, recalling that first real smile he’d been gifted that night,  _ Cassiopeia. _

 

Shouyou pointed to it, and pulled in a breath that could be heard going down his windpipe for the first time in weeks with no blockage to his lungs. “Tooru,” he called, trying to get his attention, “that’s the first one you showed me. Ca-”

 

“Stop.”

 

Hinata felt the tears sting at the back of his eyes, dropping his arm. The feeling of bile rose - this wasn’t a flower. This was sadness. This was the embarrassment from feeling like he’d been rejected before he even got the chance to start.

 

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Hinata?” Oikawa asked, eyes firmly fixed on some constellation, some world in the stars Hinata would never be able to see.

 

Hinata had a thousand responses planned. Instead, he asked, “Why’d you kick my roses into the street, that day?”

 

Hinata’s voice had come out high and reedy, cracking in its struggle to leave his throat after days of no use and a throat torn apart by thorns and sharp leaves. Tooru sucked in a breath at the question. Hinata tried not to envy how easy it seemed for Oikawa to breathe. He coughed up a marigold, tossed it aside, and looked back at the boy next to him.

 

Oikawa struggled for words, his hands twitching slightly with the urge to use them to articulate. Hinata’s eyes were drawn to them, the flex of the knuckles as they clenched and released a fist repeatedly. The brunette was glaring into the darkness, and Hinata could barely see them but he wanted to fix it, whatever made him uncomfortable.

 

_ I’m making him uncomfortable. _

 

“You don’t have to te-” Hinata stopped, coughed up another carnation. Actually, he had five in his hand by the time his coughing stopped. Oikawa waited patiently for the shorter boy to finish his sentence. Hinata tried again. “You don’t have to tell me. You seem uncomfortable, and I just wanted to know, because…”

 

A flush spread up his neck, and his breathing was a little faster. The disease in his lungs seemed to subside for but a moment, giving him just enough breath to say what he really needed to. “Tooru, the person I love is-”

 

“Don’t tell me!” Tooru exclaimed angrily. He had a look of pure rage on his face as he dug his fingers into the grass and started ripping it out of the ground by its roots. “Don’t! I hate this!”

 

Hinata gasped, a quiet, “Oh,” and felt the flowers scramble back into his throat. So he’d gambled and lost. Maybe Oikawa already knew.

 

“Don’t tell me,” Oikawa continued, looking at the little green blades in his hand before turning and childishly throwing the whole handful of grass at Hinata’s face. “I hate him. I don’t want you to be in love with him, Sho-chan.”

 

Hinata’s face scrunched up, at having the grass in his face (he’d been vomiting plants for weeks, no need for that), the repeated rejection, and the strange inflection in Oikawa’s voice. Hinata tried to ask what exactly Tooru meant by that, but the other kept going, still somewhat in third person.

 

“I think you should have the operation,” Oikawa said solemnly, “because you won’t be alone. You’ll…”

 

Hinata was now extremely confused, and began coughing in his elbow. He almost didn’t hear the next words out of the setter’s mouth over the hacking, but they slipped into his ears somehow.

 

“You’ll still have me, Sho-chan. I don’t know who that guy is, and I don’t want to. I’ll love you...I do love you.” Oikawa snapped. He was blushing, a juvenile pout on his lips with his arms crossed over his chest as he hunched over. Hinata jolted in realization.

 

“Tooru, haven’t you figured it out yet?” Hinata forced out between coughs. Oikawa finally looked up at him, catching his eyes.

 

Oikawa didn’t know. He had no clue, he still thought it was someone else. He thought Hinata was in love with someone else.

 

Hinata would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so elated.

 

The coughing subsided after three ranunculus had punched their way out of his lungs, the thickest and worst of his disease.

 

“Tooru, it’s you,” Hinata explained breathlessly, crawling across the blanket on his knees, wobbling in front of him as he felt the last cough building up. It came, it went, the same as the very first. A white carnation once again lay in Shouyou’s palm, the delicate petals perfect and unharmed, whole and fluttering gently in the slight breeze as Tooru’s eyes went wide and he stared back into Shouyou’s irises in awe.

 

“It’s kind of gross because it came out of my throat,” Hinata apologized, holding up the small carnation for Oikawa to see clearly, “but these were never for anyone else. I’ve been coughing these up since the first time you showed me Cassiopeia. These were for you.”

 

Even this close, in the dark, Hinata couldn't pinpoint the little freckle above Tooru’s eyebrow. He knew it was there, though. This moment was their own world, and everything was right where it should be, even if you couldn't see it.

 

“Oh,” Tooru replied, taking the blossom from Hinata’s palm and regarded it like it was made of glass. “Even those giant roses?”

 

“Even the giant roses.”

 

The brunette seemed to be aware if the gift he was receiving. Oikawa looked up, a whole new galaxy waiting to be discovered in his eyes. Shouyou caught his breath, and tried to pick out one of those nameless constellations and save it for later. “Thank you, Sho-chan.”

 

“Anything for you, Tooru.”

 

Shouyou kissed the freckle hiding by Tooru’s ear out of hiding.

**Author's Note:**

> white carnation: sweetness, innocence, pure love  
> frangipani: protection, shelter  
> marigold: jealousy, secret affection  
> yellow hyacinth: jealousy  
> anemone: fragile, anticipation  
> apple blossom: hope  
> ranunculus: dazzled, radiant  
> yellow carnation: disdain, rejection  
> cypress leaves: mourning, despair  
> snowdrops: friendship in trouble, hope  
> gardenia: secret admiration and love
> 
> and in case you didn't know already, and didn't understand my little joke:  
> grass = homosexual love  
> (I'msosorryididthat)


End file.
